Black Eyed Angels
by Dot
Summary: History, unlearned, repeats itself. Twenty years after the fall of Lord Voldemort, a new generation enters Hogwarts. As the wizarding world begins to divide itself, will the same prejudices befall them that befell those that came before?
1. The Letter and A Visitor

_Disclaimer: The universe this story is based on belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't own the concepts or many of the characters within. _

_A/N: As the summary says, this story takes place twenty years after the fall of Voldemort. The three main characters are my own creation, but many characters from the books will be in here as well. The story starts a little slowly, but it will pick up pace- murder, dueling, house rivalries, and all._

Chapter One: The Letter and a Visitor

Cassie Black awoke with no special powers whatsoever. She was slightly talented in arts and crafts, and read too much for her own good, or so her cousin Paula claimed— reading, the thirteen-year-old said, made boys less likely to date you. Cassie, only eleven, really had no reason to question Paula, though she didn't much care for the idea of dating.

On this particular morning, the birds were chirping loudly outside of her window— it sounded more like screaming to Cassie, and she crinkled her nose. She had woken up earlier that morning to jerk the blinds halfway down, but she hadn't closed the window. Burying her face in her pillow did no good. She hated birds. She opened her eyes to glare at the offenders through a messy curtain of black hair, and an owl swooped by. She rolled her newly opened eyes. Owls were supposed to be nocturnal, weren't they?

With a groan, she sat up and climbed out of bed. Her cousins were up and downstairs, by the sound of it; she padded downstairs as well. Ten o'clock in the morning was a respectable time for breakfast in June; school was out and there was no way that Cassie would see the other side of nine am. She liked sleep as much as she hated the birds that roused her from it.

Paula stood by the table, pouring milk into her little brother's bowl, trying to make it look like a glamorous thing to do and not failing all together. Billy sat at the table looking bored while Georgie gurgled and reached for his milk. Cassie took her usual chair and reached for the Wheetabix, wishing her aunt bought better cereal.

Paula shook her head at Cassie's disheveled appearance. "You know you'll be starting school with me in the fall. You should really look into personal grooming."

Cassie took a bite of her Wheetabix. Thirteen was a bad age.

Paula rolled her eyes at her cousin's lack of care. "You have mail, Cass."

And that was how the morning that changed Cassie Black's life began.

Cassie jumped up from her chair, grabbed for the stack of mail on the counter, her sluggish apathy gone. Most of the letters were addressed to her uncle, one for her aunt, and a postcard for Paula— Cassie shoved it her way and continued rifling. And there it was. The letter for her. It looked rather like the one for her aunt, but Cassie didn't quibble. Eleven-year-olds rarely got mail. Cassie sat back down again, biting her lip.

The envelope looked old and felt more like thin leather than regular old paper. It was addressed to Miss C. Black, and it had her full address on it, including which bedroom she lived in. It boggled the mind. She opened it eagerly, careful not to tear the parchment.

Cassie's mouth fell open as she read the letterhead. It said "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", in the fanciest writing Cassie had ever seen. No one at the table noticed, and Cassie sunk a little deeper in her chair, dark brown eyes fixed on the sloping script. The headmistress of the school, apparently, was Minerva McGonnagal, who was in or had something called an Order of Merlin, first class. And beneath that… Cassie gasped.

_Dear Ms. Black, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Aurelius Breckerly, _

_Deputy Headmaster_

The list enclosed called for things like a cauldron (pewter, size four) and books like _Standard Book of Spells_, grade one. The oddest thing on it, Cassie guessed, was the text _Goblins, Goons, and Werewolves: Medieval Wizarding History_, by someone called Worfric Weasley.

"What are you gaping at?" Billy asked, breaking Cassie from her awestruck stare.

Cassie blinked a few times. "I… I think it's an invitation to a school camp or something," she said. Paula had her hand out immediately and Cassie reluctantly handed it over.

Paula looked puzzled but before she could say anything, Aunt Henrietta swept into the room. "Morning, kids. How are you all today?"

"Cass has got a weird letter, Mum," Billy said, and Paula immediately passed her mother the letter.

Aunt Henrie studied it. A flicker of confusion, maybe worry, passed over her face, but then she chuckled. "Interesting. A summer camp, perhaps? No, it says September. Maybe its an after school thing?" She gave the letter back to Cassie. "How odd."

But a few minutes later, after going through her own mail and opening the letter that looked like Cassie's, Aunt Henrie grabbed Cassie's letter from her. "Oh my, oh my…"

"What is it, Mum?" Paula asked.

Just then the doorbell rang. Aunt Henrie looked bleakly at the living room. "Alright, boys, Paula, head upstairs. Cassie and I have a visitor, I suppose."

The children went up and Aunt Henrie smiled at Cassie. "This is very strange, dear. You're sure you've never heard of this Hogwarts place before?"

Before Cassie could answer, the doorbell rang again, and Aunt Henrie ran off to get it. Cassie followed, wishing she could get a look at the letter Henrie was still clutching.

Aunt Henrie opened the door quickly and after a moment of silence, invited the visitor inside. The woman who entered was possibly the strangest looking woman Cassie had ever seen. Her hair was bright red and fell in curls around her face. Freckles dotted her long, straight nose, and her eyes were cornflower blue. She looked to be around Aunt Henrie's age, thirty-six, but she was slimmer than Aunt Henrie. Her dress, quite respectable in cut, was a bright purple; her hat had a huge feather on it. Cassie was sure at once that she had something to do with the "wizard school" and that she was definitely not Minerva McGonagall. No one in that "Order of Merlin" would wear feathers.

"Do come in," Aunt Henrie said, and showed the guest to the living room. Cassie followed, more confused than ever. The visitor murmured about how lovely their home was, and once or twice exclaimed at the quaintness of this or that, though how a television set was "quaint" Cassie didn't know.

Once they were all seated, the redhead smiled at Henrie and said, "You must be Mrs. Berquist." Her voice was warm, rolling over Cassie like cream or honey. Aunt Henrie's shoulders relaxed at the sound of it and when she spoke, her voice had lost its tense edge.

"Yes, I am. This is Cassie, and you must be…"

"Professor Livia Malkin." She smiled at both of them, shook their hands firmly. "I teach Charms at Hogwarts. I must say, I am so glad that it was I who was chosen for this little visit. It makes my summers far more enjoyable."

Aunt Henrie smiled politely, but the edges of her lips seemed caught by nervousness and refused to move up all the way. "The letter said you would explain…"

"Yes." Ms. Malkin smiled, looked at Cassie. "You, dear, are a witch."

Aunt Henrie still had that nervous smile plastered on her face, but Cassie felt no such compunction to be polite. "You must be joking," she said immediately. "A witch? Witches don't exist."

Ms. Malkin— Cassie couldn't think of her as a professor because she was obviously crazy— smiled and didn't look at all offended. "Oh, Cassie, you have no idea how many times I've heard that."

"Maybe you should start listening."

"Cassie!" Aunt Henrie said sharply and Cassie rolled her eyes. Apparently, one had to be polite to a guest, even if said guest was insane. "Professor, the letter that I received—"

"A standard letter to our Muggle-born students' families." At the blank look they both gave her, Ms. Malkin laughed. "Oh, yes, well, I should explain. Muggles are what we witches and wizards call unmagical folk. Like you, Mrs. Berquist."

"But not me?" Cassie asked skeptically.

"No, Cassie. As I said, you are a witch."

"Prove it."

"Cassie!" Aunt Henrie said again. "You must forgive her, this is a little… well, crazy?" She laughed politely.

Something in that letter must have bewitched— Cassie mentally rolled her eyes at her own thought— her aunt, because Henrietta Berquist, chemistry teacher, would never sit on the couch with a stranger dressed in purple feathers and discuss her niece becoming a witch.

"I want you to prove it," Cassie said again, raising her chin defiantly.

Ms. Malkin grinned and said, "Oh-ho. A bold one. You'll be sorted into Gryffindor, perhaps. That was my House."

Cassie only understood the first half of that.

Ms. Malkin smiled indulgently. "Proof, my dear. I can provide you with that. But only faith can lead to true belief. After all, faith is the substance of what you hope for, and the firm belief of what you can't see," she said, as though quoting. Cassie wondered if it was from _Goblins, Goons, and Werewolves_, but somehow she didn't think so. "However, magic you _can_ see."

From her pocket, Ms. Malkin drew a wand. As the coffee table rose from the floor to the ceiling and then turned into a dog, Cassie didn't doubt any more. She sucked in a deep breath and blinked rapidly.

"Term begins September 1st. Shall we reserve your place?"

All Cassie could do was nod dumbly, her aunt beside her doing the same.

_

* * *

_

_Note: "Faith is the substance of what you hope for, and the firm belief of what you can't see." Dante's Paradiso, Canto XXIV, ln. 64-66, paraphrased from Hebrews._


	2. Diagon Alley

Chapter Two: Diagon Alley

"Cassie, over here!"

Cassie spun around and around, trying to find her aunt in the mass of people crowded in the bookstore. They'd gotten separated as soon as they entered the store, and she wasn't even going to try to find her schoolbooks until she found her aunt. Cassie couldn't see over the tall pointy hats on nearly every head, but finally, she caught sight of Aunt Henrie's brown coat amidst the greens and blues of the wizards' robes.

They hadn't been able to get into London until right before the start of her Hogwarts term— it was August 30th— and they'd come by themselves, leaving Uncle William to deal with the three children. The wizarding shopping district, called Diagonally, or Diagon Alley, or something equally strange sounding, was full of people, milling around, sons and daughters begging loudly for things like the "Nimbus 3000" or "Wizard Wheezes," whatever those were.

Cassie thought it was wonderful. Aunt Henrie seemed less sure about that.

Apparently the spell on the letter had worn off— though Professor Malkin claimed it wasn't actually bewitched, just written very well (though Cassie had her doubts)— and Aunt Henrie was looking like she wanted to run away from the oddly dressed, oddly friendly mob. But she stuck it out bravely, pale faced and muttering under her breath that wizarding genes better not run in the family, because she would never set Billy loose in a magical mall. Cassie laughed loudly at that, and caught the attention of one of the shop clerks, an old woman with steely gray hair and a crooked nose.

"Why, dear, can I help you? You and your mother look a little lost."

Her voice was certainly nicer than her face, and Cassie smiled. It was Aunt Henrie who replied. "My niece is starting at, um, Hogwarts, and we're looking for her school books."

"Oh, yes, of course! A Muggle-born, then, dear?" she said and Cassie nodded. "We can set you right up for your first year!"

"Here's the booklist…" Aunt Henri offered, but the old woman dismissed the parchment with a wave of her hand.

She weaved her way through the crowd, not really watching where she was going, and talking at them over her shoulder as they struggled to keep up. "Nonsense! There's only been one change from last year's list, and quite a good one might I add." She stopped in front of a shelf and bent down. "Worfric Weasley's book has been standard reading for decades; it's about time Hogwarts adopted it!"

Cassie brightened as the old lady passed her a copy of Goblins, Goons, and Werewolves. The cover was as wonderful as she'd imagined, with a silvery gray wolf howling at a full moon. The old lady noticed her smile. "Oh, you like history?"

Cassie nodded, too embarrassed to explain that she had just liked the picture and the title. The clerk grabbed another book off the shelf and pushed it into Cassie's hands, atop the werewolf book. "You'll have to have this then."

The cover had no werewolves howling, or even a full moon— it was plain brown, the words "Hogwarts, a History," embossed across the front. It was easily three times as thick as the Weasley book and Cassie had to fight not to grimace.

"It's the 164th edition, updated only seventeen years ago. It includes the Second War with… Well, with You-Know-Who." Cassie did not know who, but she nodded anyway. Beside her, Aunt Henrie was doing the same. "It's a mite pricey, but it's a must for any Muggle-born who wants to learn about the wizarding world."

Cassie looked at Aunt Henrie, hoping she'd say no, but she was nodding again. "We'll take it."

The woman looked pleased with herself. "Alright then! Now let's find those spell books, shall we?"

* * *

The ice cream on Diagon Alley was beyond awesome. There was no other word to describe it. Cassie was sure that it was bewitched. Nothing natural could taste that good.

"What else is on the list, Aunt Henrie?" Cassie asked as she was finishing up her sundae.

"Well…" Aunt Henrie said, and cleared her throat. "Well, your wand."

"My wand?" Cassie asked. "Wicked."

Ollivander's was strangely shaped building, with an impossibly old founding date. Cassie stared up at it in awe as she walked in. Perhaps, after this, she really would like history. Inside, an old man, tall and skinny, was sorting through boxes, straightening up his messy store. It looked like a cyclone had hit.

"Mr. Ollivander?"

The old man smiled. "Castor Ollivander-Westly. My uncle was the old Mr. Ollivander. They just call me Westly."

"Oh. I'm Henrietta Berquist, and this is Cassie." Aunt Henrie smiled tightly. "We're here for a wand?" Since entering Diagon Alley, almost everything Aunt Henrie had said sounded like it ended in a question mark.

"Yes, yes, of course." Westly smiled. "I suspect the wand's for you, young lady."

Cassie nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm starting at Hogwarts."

"A fine school. I went there myself." He winked. "You look studious to me… Perhaps Ravenclaw? That was my House."

Cassie did like to read, but she had no idea what the House thing was about. Professor Malkin had said something similar. Perhaps she'd have to read Hogwarts, a History after all.

Westly was moving around her, scrutinizing her from every angle, while a tape measure was dancing along her arms and legs. Aunt Henrie was clutching the front of her jacket, and had stepped away from Cassie. "So let's see…" Westly narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps this. Give it a little wave." He turned, took a box from the wall. He removed the lid, and offered what was inside to her.

It was a wand. A real wand, like Professor Malkin's, curved and carved and oddly beautiful. Cassie nearly gasped with excitement. Her shaking hand reached out, pulled the wand from its cotton nest, and waved it gently. Nothing happened. Panic stabbed at her. Perhaps they'd been wrong. Perhaps she wasn't a witch after all. Perhaps it had all been some sort of cruel, insane joke.

She blinked and realized that Westly was holding out another box. She quickly replaced the wand she was holding, and waved the new one, a little harder. Again, nothing happened and she looked helplessly at Aunt Henrie.

Westly smiled sympathetically as he put the two boxes away. "It's alright, dear. The wand chooses the witch. There will be one for you." He studied her for a moment, faded eyes falling from her bobbed black hair to her steepled fingers on the counter. "Let me see…"

He turned around, walked away, scanning the shelves as he went. Finally, he pulled a box from the wall. "Try this, my dear."

The wand inside was so pale a wood that it was almost white, and tapered to a thin, blunt tip. She reached for it slowly and pulled it from its cushioned bed. The wood felt right in her hand, felt warm, and she knew before she even waved it that it was hers. The colors that sprang from it were no surprise.

Westly smiled warmly. "Ah, I tell you, Cassie, that was quicker than most. Quite pale for holly… It will suit you well, I believe. Excellent for charms work." He moved toward the filing cabinet at the end of the counter. "My predecessor remembered every wand he ever sold. I, alas, am not so gifted. I file forms instead. Cassie Berquist, is it?"

"Oh, no… She's my aunt. It's Cassie Black."

Westly's eyes narrowed and he had a look on his face, for just one instant, that was anything but kindly. Then it faded. "From a Muggle family, are you?"

She nodded, and he smiled again. "You must be enjoying Diagon Alley, then! Tell me, dear, have you eaten at Fortescue's?"

* * *

They stayed in London that night, and Aunt Henrie subtle tried to talk Cassie out of going to Hogwarts at least three times. But, after paging through her school books and the Daily Prophet they had purchased— it had moving pictures! — Cassie could not imagine turning her back on such an adventure. So as the morning broke, she turned off the mobile she had gotten for her birthday, handed it to Aunt Henrie, and put a new set of wizarding robes into her carry-on pack. She would change on the train.

At the train station, in front of the pillar that marked the entrance to platform 9 3/4, Aunt Henrie clutched at Cassie.

"You know you're my little girl even if I'm not your mother. Be careful, alright, Cassie?"

Cassie forced herself to smile through the building excitement and fear inside her. "I will, Aunt Henrie. I promise. I love you."

Henrie pulled away, smiled. "Love you too."

Cassie turned toward the wall and gripped the handle of the cart she had in front of her. Professor Malkin had told her all about the gateway to the platform. The instructions were clear: walk into the wall. They were a mite harder to carry out. Cassie took a deep breath, and with one last look at her aunt, she moved forward, pushing the cart directly into the wall.


End file.
